Hollow
by beyondwonder
Summary: It’s 2014 and Dean is in for a rude awakening. Missing scenes from 5.04 Dean/Jo – Angst – NC17


**Title:** Hollow

**Summary:** It's 2014 and Dean is in for a rude awakening. (Missing scenes from 5.04) Dean/Jo – Angst – NC17

**Spoilers:** Episode 3.02 & major spoilers for 5.04

**A/N:** Ella contacted me and asked me to write her a fic to go with 5.04. She wanted to see the episode feature future!Jo – so here is what I came up with. Thanks to Hannah for her super ninja beta skills! :D

* * *

Dean gasped with relief as the nail finally slid free from the floorboards. Fingers covered in blood, he perched the nail on his lap while he wiped the slippery blood off his fingers. Once he was sure the blood wouldn't hinder his attempt to pick the lock on the handcuffs, he grasped the nail tightly, and twisted his body until he could kneel.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean entertained his brain with all the things he was going to do to his future self when he was finally free. Then when he was finished with bizarre Future Dean, he was going to track down Zechariah, and pluck each one of the arrogant angel's feathers for sending him into the future in the first place.

Just as he was about to insert the nail into the lock, he heard heavy boot clad feet marching towards the cabin. Dean quickly stashed the nail into his pocket, and returned to his previous position before his future self realised what he was about to attempt.

"It's about time-" Dean's sarcastic greeting was silenced as the last person in the world he had expected to see, opened the door. "Jo?" He gaped at the leggy blonde in the doorway.

Time had definitely transformed the once soft, girlish looking Harvelle into a toned, striking woman. Dean forced himself to swallow the appreciative whistle building in his throat. Her lean figure wasn't the only thing that had changed; two jagged scars covered the left side of her face, the thin slash marks slithering from her hairline to the bottom of her ear. _'Jesus Jo, what's happened to you?'_ He wondered, inspecting the rest of her body for any other scars.

Seemingly unimpressed by his intense examination, she responded to his silent questions with a disapproving glare. "Yeah," she replied, shutting the door behind her. "Who were you expecting? Risa?"

Dean tilted his head to the side, confused by the bitterness lacing her tone. "Huh?"

Jo crossed the room swiftly, her movements controlled and strict – yet Dean noticed there was also a subtle feminine grace to her that he'd never noticed before. "Don't get up," she instructed him, reaching for a large piece of rolled up paper from a box on top of a filing cabinet beside him. "I just came to check the floor plans for tomorrows raid."

"Listen Jo, this is not what it looks like," Dean started to explain, yanking against the handcuffs. "Me.. I mean… the other me-"

Without so much as an interested glance in his direction, she pulled the elastic band off the paper, and inspected the floor plans in the dim light. "I thought you were over the whole bondage sex thing?" she spoke up, her eyes still examining the plan.

Dean felt his cheeks flush, and he tried to cover up his embarrassment with a casual shrug. "I'm not… Jo… do you think you could help me out here?" She ignored his plea, and rolled the plan back up, replacing the elastic band with a loud snap. Sensing she was about leave, he attempted to climb to his knees. "Jo, please – I'm not who you think I am, if you let me out I'll explain everything."

Tucking the plan under her arm, she studied him with a set of sceptical brown eyes. Dean shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but forced himself to maintain eye contact. After a few tense seconds he recognised something in the depth of her eyes that made his chest tighten. Grief. A deep hollow sadness that he suddenly realized was overshadowing her whole demeanour. It was a look that Dean recognised all too well as a sign that someone had experienced hell; and carried on.

Before he could open his mouth to question her, she turned away and strode to the door. "Jo, wait a second – please!" He called after her desperately.

Jo paused – shoulders stiff, a pale hand set on the doorknob. "Sorry, but there's probably a good reason why Dean locked you in here." Without any explanation, she stepped outside and locked the door behind her quietly.

Confused, Dean sunk down on to the floor feeling frustrated and sore. He pondered the odd conversation with the future Jo. The once youthful glow the stubborn Harvelle had always emitted was now extinguished, and in place was a cold wall of steel fused with distrust. Dean wondered if the scars on her face had something to do with the change, but he feared that the scars barely reflected what was going on beneath the surface.

With a newfound determination, Dean began to hastily work away at the lock, his mind contemplating how much the world had really changed over five years.

* * *

Jo gasped. Cold fingers slithered over her stomach until they found purchase between her naked thighs. Without opening her eyes, she leant back against the firm chest behind her, and moaned her greeting.

"I have an hour before we head out," he breathed into her hair, his fingers working swiftly.

"The colt?" She whispered, her teeth tearing at her bottom lip while she fought to suppress her whimpers. She felt his nod of confirmation as his lips descended down her arm. Turning, she laced her fingers through his hair, and pulled him on top of her.

His fingers left a sticky trail over her abdomen as they searched for her breasts in the dark. Lips ghosting over her mouth, he nuzzled the side of her neck until he found the puckered skin of her scar. Gently, his lips trailed up the long path to her hairline until she turned her head away embarrassed.

"There is only one potential out of the new arrivals," she murmured, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blade as he pushed her legs further apart. "He's ex military."

"Marine?"

She nodded, and clutched his thick biceps as he entered her in one smooth thrust. He pulled her tightly to him, dragging her into a sitting position. Jo curled around him, a deep moan escaping between clenched teeth.

Small talk dissolved, as it always did when he lost himself in between hard thrusts. Her orgasm began to build, and she was careful not to leave any marks as her teeth grazed his ear. He pushed her back down onto the thin mattress heavily, the old rusty springs complaining under the force. She could not see his face in the darkness of the cabin, but she knew his eyes were boring a hole into the wall above her head as he tried to hold himself back for her.

Arching her back, and tilting her pelvis slightly to the left she let out a tiny squeak of surprise as her toes curled. He gripped her thighs tighter, obeyed her command to increase his speed, and allowed his basic instincts to take over. Her name tumbled from his lips, and a second later he collapsed heavily on top of her.

Jo wound her arms around him, and pressed a tender kiss to his temple while she had the chance. Screwing her eyes shut tightly, she tried to burn the feeling, and taste of him enveloping her into her memory. Heart beating furiously against his ribs, she forced her heart to match him beat for beat until she was intoxicated by the feeling of his scarred fingers stroking through her hair. He shifted and she curled back up on her side.

Five short minutes later, he withdrew his hand, and peeled himself away. She shivered from the sudden rush of cold air, only to have him replace her blankets quickly. Jo did not watch him dress. Instead, she inhaled the sweet scents staining her limp pillows and her sweaty skin.

When he was finished, he deposited a kiss to the side of her face, gruffly reminded her to keep an eye on Sector 9, and locked the door behind him. Rolling over, Jo pulled the blankets over her head. After she had indulged in the quickly dissolving body heat sapping from the mattress, she felt something digging into her hip and ran her curious fingers experimentally over the rectangular object. Jo withdrew the object, and retrieved the flashlight from under her bed.

A quick blaze of light and she beamed at the rare treasure. She didn't know how he had found it, or how long he had been hiding it before he had a chance to give it to her, but the sight of the small bag of MNM'S almost brought Jo to tears.

He had remembered the significance of the date.

* * *

By the time the sun descended upon the sleepy camp, Dean had finally released himself from the sharp handcuffs. Having kept watch through the window for over half an hour, Dean gathered the nerve to slip out of the red storage cabin. His tired eyes swept his surroundings for his future self. Ready to start his search, Dean took a step towards the other cabins when a hesitant voice called out after him.

"Hey, Dean. You got a second?"

Dean turned around surprised, and was relieved to see that the prophet Chuck was still alive in the future. He smiled at the unkempt man in greeting. "No, oh yes. Uh… i-I guess. – Hi, Chuck."

Barely acknowledging his stuttered reply, Chuck lifted his clipboard, and started talking. "Hi. So, uh, listen, we're pretty good on canned good for now, but we're down to next to nothing on perishables and – hygiene supplies. People are not gonna be happy about this." He paused, and Dean suspected that the main person who was not happy about this fact was Chuck himself. "So, what do you think we should do?"

Dean stared at the man perplexed -- until he remembered that he was supposed to be playing his future leader self in order to move about the camp freely. He shifted nervously. "I-I don't know. Maybe, uh, share? You know, like at kibbutz."

Chuck stared at him, his eyes raking up and down his body suspiciously. Dean wondered if the man was still receiving visions, and had predicted that Dean was from 2009. He waited for Chuck to start shouting in alarm, but the man simply blinked. "Wait a minute – aren't you supposed to be out on a mission right now?"

Busted.

Dean grimaced, and quickly tried to rectify his mistake before Chuck could draw any attention to his slip. He tried pulling his shoulders back, reflecting the cold nature he had seen his future self possess. "Absolutely. And I will be-"

Distracted by something over Dean's shoulder, the disheveled man in front of him seemed to shrink into himself. "Uh-oh."

He heard the sound of stomping feet in time to narrowly miss the fist that came flying towards his face. For a split second Dean thought it was Jo coming back to give him a piece of her mind, until he dodged a kick from a furious black hair woman intent on ramming her fist into his skull.

Ducking behind a petrified Chuck, Dean called out to the woman. "Whoa! Geez - easy lady!" He pushed the prophet in front of him, hoping to use him as a shield.

Rigid with fear, Chuck murmured the woman's name helpfully. "Risa."

"Risa?" Dean repeated hopefully.

The woman glowered at him, her body shaking with unkempt fury. "You spent the night in Jo's cabin last night, didn't you?"

"Uh, what?" Dean glanced at Chuck for help. "I-I don't – did I?"

Chuck nodded, clearly wanting nothing more than to scamper away. Dean couldn't blame him - he wanted to run away himself. The woman, who rocked an awesome set of breasts, continued to stare at Dean waiting for an answer.

"I thought we had a 'connection'," The woman remarked sarcastically. Dean had to restrain himself from snorting. He didn't think it was ever going to be possible to have a connection with someone who used air quotes in general conversation.

"Well I'm sure that we do," he tried to amend.

"Yeah?"

Chuck chose that moment to speak up. "Hi, Risa."

Unimpressed, the woman snarled at Dean and shoved past Chuck roughly. "Screw you."

"Oh, geez I'm being busted for stuff I haven't even done yet," Dean muttered under his breath. He couldn't help but glance around hesitantly in case his future self had any other female surprises running around.

"What?"

"Uh, never mind. Hey, Chuck, is… Cas still here?" He held his breath, hoping that the stoic Angel was hanging around somewhere. He'd had enough of Zechariah's little game, and wanted home. He had stuff to do, and had, had his fair share of 'What If' alternate realities to last him a lifetime.

Chuck snorted, obviously amused by his question. "Yeah. I don't think Cas is going anywhere."

* * *

"What, are you stoned?" Dean questioned the bemused Angel in front of him. If the situation wasn't so dire he may have found the chance to chuckle – but an inebriated Angel was the last thing he needed to deal with.

Castiel paused, a lazy smile crossing his features. "Uh, generally – yeah."

'_You've got to be friggin kidding me'_, Dean swore internally and gaped at Castiel with disbelief evident on his face. "What happened to you?"

"Life," The Angel responded cryptically.

"Life?" Dean repeated, his eyes sweeping the Angels features for any further explanation. Castiel shrugged in response. "Right." Glancing around the room, Dean looked for a place to sit while he grilled the Angel for information. If Castiel no longer possessed his Angel mojo, then he was going to have to begrudgingly play by Zechariah's rules and learn as much as he could before his time was up. "So you want to tell me what-"

"Castiel?" A girl with mousy brown hair, Dean instantly recognised from the circle of girls pandering at Castiel's feet, entered the room. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but Jo wanted to know if you're ready for her yet?"

'_What the hell does that mean?'_ Dean wondered serving the Angel with a furious glare. "What are you doing with Jo?" he hissed, unable to keep the anger out of his tone. He grabbed Castiel by the arm roughly. "She better not be one of your orgy girls."

Castiel grinned, and slowly reached over to pat Dean on the cheek gently. "Calm yourself, past Dean," he urged with a jovial expression. "Dana, please let Joanna know that I will bring her medication over when I am finished communing with our leader." The girl nodded and rushed outside.

Dean frowned at the stoned Angel in front of him. "Medication?" He challenged with a scowl. "What, are you her drug dealer now?"

Giving Dean a knowing smile, he shook his head. "No. Joanna suffers from insomnia and I have been teaching her how to meditate." He smirked. "The sleeping pills help too."

Nodding, Dean tried not to let on how relieved he was that Jo was not caught up in some sexual exploration with the intoxicated Angel. "Oh. Well." He sighed and crossed the room to stand by the dusty window. "What's going on around here, Cas?" He asked, gazing out at the vision before him. Thick collum's of black smoke stained the far off horizon. "The Croatoan virus, Sam's dead, my future self is acting like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and my baby is scrap metal? What am I… he… my future self thinking?"

He turned around in time to see Castiel's eyes drop to the floor sadly. When he answered, Castiel sounded remarkably human because his tone was littered with grief. "You should ask Joanna – she would know better than anyone what is going on inside your head right now."

Frowning, Dean crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Oh yeah – and why's that? She a psychic now?"

Castiel brightened, shaking his head back and forth. "Not that I'm aware of. But imagine the possibilities." He flopped down on to the pillows on the floor. "But that's not what I meant." He closed his eyes, and appeared to be drifting off to sleep.

Dean kicked the pillows beside the Angel. "Cas!"

Opening his eyes, Castiel stared up at Dean dreamily. His pupils had dilated even further. "Huh? Oh, hey, Past Dean." He smirked, chuckling at a private joke.

"You didn't answer me," Dean reminded him with a frustrated growl.

Brow creasing, the former Angel scratched his head. "What was the question again?"

"Why does Joanna Harvelle know me better than anyone?"

"I don't know…" Castiel responded in a singsong voice. He struggled to sit up, and actually giggled when his arms refused to co-operate. It took a mammoth amount of restraint not to pick the Angel up and shake him. Finally, Castiel mastered the act of sitting up and blinked at him. "But you could try asking Joanna Winchester."

Dean's jaw dropped open. He ogled the sleepy man, his brain buzzing with a million questions. "What? Joanna _Winchester_? As in-"

A wide smirk crossed Castiel's features, and he nodded dopily. "Your wife… well ex-wife… though you never did get divorced." He shrugged nonchalantly. "At least as far as I know… hang on…" He leant backwards, and shouted at the room behind him. "Crystal… Crystal!"

A tall leggy blonde appeared at the door. "Yes, Castiel?" she asked breathlessly. Dean rolled his eyes as he realised she was naked. A tattoo of a winking Angel covered her left breast.

"Did Dean and Jo ever get divorced?"

Crystal glanced briefly at Dean with a questioning look on her face, but shook her head. "No. But Risa told me that _he_ didn't believe in titles."

Frowning, Dean glanced at Castiel. He shrugged. "Sounds like something I'd say. Thanks –er," he glanced at the girl. "Crystal - was it?"

Castiel nodded, and the girl did a semi curtsy, and breezed out of the room. "Well if you'll excuse me past Dean, I have an appointment I must attend."

"Yeah," Dean replied unimpressed and headed for the door. "I'd hate for you to keep the ladies waiting." He shook his head. "Who knew you'd turn into such a man whore?"

Castiel laughed, nearly stumbling into the wall on his way towards the back room. "I hope you stick around for a while past Dean – you're so much more fun than present Dean." The Winchester made to leave, when Castiel called him back. "Joanna's cabin is the blue one at the back." He said, pointing out the window.

'_Smug bastard'_, Dean thought, but nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, Cas."

Giving him two thumbs up, Castiel smirked. "Keep it real, Dean."

Dean shook his head, disturbed by the whole situation. This was the last scenario the hunter imagined to find his friend in. "Er, yeah… you too, Cas."

* * *

"I wondered how long it would take you to escape," Jo admitted, closing the door behind Dean after he had entered her cabin. He glanced around the sparse room. Apart from the collage of photos on a wall beside the bed, Dean never would have guessed someone actually lived in the blue cabin.

"Nice… erm place." He commented, giving her a polite smile while she stared at him. "Spacious." He peered at the photos on the wall curiously; a picture of Ellen Harvelle sat at the top of the collage.

"What are you doing here, Dean?"

"Would you believe a sadistic angel sent me five years into the future to teach me a lesson?" he asked, smiling at her hopefully.

Jo didn't move. Instead she continued to observe him coolly. "I meant, what are you doing here… right now this second? Shouldn't you be bugging Castiel for a pair of Ruby slippers?"

"I tried that first," Dean admitted sheepishly. "But he was too stoned to offer more than a 'Good Luck Buddy'."

Jo nodded in understanding, and crossed her arms and leant against the door. "So Zachariah sent you to the future huh?" Dean nodded, surprise lining his features. "Lucky guess," she responded dryly. "Well I wish I could help you out, but you would know more than I would."

"It's funny you say that," Dean said, and quirked an brow at her. "Cas says otherwise. In fact he said you're something of an expert around here when it comes to me."

Snorting, Jo uncrossed her arms and pushed herself away from the door. She crossed the room, stopping only when she reached an empty crate. Pushing the crate aside, she used her heel to push down on the end of a floorboard and caught it when the opposite end sprung up. Curious, Dean took a step forward to see what she had hidden in the floor. He instantly recognised his dad's journal, as well as a few knives, a bag of MNM's and two bottles of beer. "Here." She handed him one of the beers, and quickly slid the floorboard and crate back into place.

"My favourite," he murmured, turning the beer over in his hand.

"I know," she commented bluntly, and unscrewed the top off her beer. "It's warm - but beer is beer and it's something of a rare find now a days." Jo brought the bottle to her lips and took a small sip. A smirk tugged at her lips, and she lowered the bottle a fraction. "He's gonna be so pissed when he finds out I gave _you_ my last one."

Dean raised his eyebrows, and took a hesitant sip of the beer. An awkward tension filled the air, so he wandered around the room trying to find the courage to bring up a conversation that he considered too bizarre to be real. "So-"

"Cas told you we were married, didn't he?" Jo supplied, turning the crate over and sitting down on top of it. "It's true."

She tugged at a silver chain around her neck until a silver ring came free from under her shirt. Dean instantly recognised the ring as the same one currently adorning his finger. _'I wondered where the ring was when I met my future self,' _Dean mused watching Jo inspect the ring.

"It would have been three years last night."

"Would have?" Dean repeated, taking note of the way her jaw hardened.

"Yeah," Jo confirmed with a sad shake of her head. She sipped her beer, her expression thoughtful. "Things got… complicated last year."

"Complicated?" Dean repeated, and touched the side of his face. "Like those scars on your face?"

She froze, and for a second he thought that she was going to hurl the beer bottle at him. An intense second passed and Jo tucked her necklace back under her shirt. "No." She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "That I received from my mother four years ago."

"Oh," he responded, grimacing. "Must have been some cat fight?"

Jo snorted, and leant forward on the crate, her elbows resting on her thighs. "Yeah, if you call waking up to your croat infected mother trying to slice your head open with a butter knife, a cat fight."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Huffing, Jo took a large gulp from her beer. "Funny that's what you said two days later when I rocked up on Bobby's door step with a body in the boot of my car." Speechless, Dean didn't know what to do with himself. He took a slow sip of his beer, franticly wracking his brain for something comforting to say. Eventually when the silence became too much he pointed to the wall of photos.

"So that's what the wall is for?" Jo shrugged, looking uncomfortable with his interest in the photos. "Do you mind if I have a closer look?" He asked, and only when she nodded did he walk over to it to take a closer look. His eyes roamed over the faces. Some he recognised as other hunters, but there were also a lot of faces he didn't recognise… young faces. He paused when he spotted the last photo closer to the bottom of the collage. He pulled the creased photo off the wall and inspected it.

"That's Ben." Dean jumped, having been too immersed in the photo to hear her approach. The boy in the photo had to be no more than fourteen. Brown spiky hair, leather jacket – he stood cockily beside the Impala with a gun slung over his shoulder. Beside Ben stood his future self with an arm looped around Jo's waist, his other hand resting on Ben's shoulder. "The same kid you saved from the Changelings. His mom was killed a couple of years back after some croats broke into their house one night. You heard about the attack and found Ben recovering from a head wound in hospital. He begged you to take him with you and to train him how to shoot, so he could kill the bastards that had murdered his mom." She took the photo from his hand. "The kid worshipped the ground you walked on, followed you everywhere and wouldn't let you out of his sight. I used to call him Mini-D. You pretended to hate it of course, but you told me one night that you'd give anything to take us all away from this, and live as a real family."

Dean shrugged, trying not to let his imagination run wild with the possibilities of the life she was describing. "Well he's a cool kid."

"Was." Jo corrected him sadly. She placed the photo back on the wall, her hand gently caressing the faces in the photo. "I know you came here looking for answers Dean, but all I can tell you is what happened. After Ben died…" she paused.

Dean felt guilty for brining up an obviously painful subject. He was once again struck by the changes in the future Jo. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he offered.

Jo shook her head, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She stared at the wall. "No. It's fine – it's not like Dean is going to tell you the truth," she turned towards him. "Ben wanted to start going on missions with you, but you downright refused. Despite the training, we both told him he was too young. He was just a kid. We wanted to protect him, keep him ignorant to how bad the world had gotten." She chuckled, though there was no humour in the action. "We should have known that a teenager was going to do the exact opposite of what his adopted parents told him to do. Hell, _I _should have known better – I spent my entire life doing everything my mom told me not to."

"What happened?" Dean asked quietly, though he suspected what had happened.

"You were on a mission, and I was training the new recruits when Ben hotwired the Impala and took off after you." Jo shook her head, and stared at the photograph. "One of the croats had you pinned down by the neck. Ben snuck up and grabbed it from behind. There was a fight, but you managed to kill the croat before he cut Ben in half." She paused, and Dean could see she was struggling to keep the tears back. Awkwardly, Dean reached out and touched her arm, but she didn't appear to notice. Her eyes were glassy and she continued to stare at the wall unseeingly. "The first symptoms of infection made themselves known on the drive back to camp. Ben must have known what was happening, because he made you pull over. He apologised for sneaking out, and told you that he was the luckiest kid in the world to have you as a dad. Then he took your rifle and told you he didn't want to die from some monster virus. He… he said that if you really loved him… you'd… you'd make it quick."

"No," Dean gasped. Jo turned away from him, and stood by the window, her hand dragging the ring back and forth against her necklace. "Jo, tell me I didn't-"

"You didn't come home for a month." She continued, her tone thick with grief. "I thought you and Ben had been killed during the mission so I broke my promise… I tracked Sam down in Detroit and told him what had happened. As you can probably imagine he didn't take the news very well." Jo turned around, her eyes cast down on the ring between her fingers. "But I was wrong. You weren't dead. Not physically anyway. I was on patrol one night when I found you gutting the Impala. One look at your face and I knew what had happened." She dropped the necklace, and raised her eyes so that he could see them. They were full of regret. "I tried everything, Dean. I tried so hard to comfort you, to be there for you; but you just shut me out. I told you a million times that I didn't blame you and begged for you to just talk to me, but you wouldn't. You wouldn't touch me, wouldn't look at me. I thought for a while that you blamed me for not watching Ben closer, but on our second wedding anniversary you told me the full story… and then you took your stuff and left."

"I… I" Dean was a loss for words.

"It's okay," Jo assured him, her eyes full of understanding. "You don't have to say anything. What happened… it's done. Begging vindictive Angels to take it all back was never going to solve everything." She hesitated and then looked at him sadly. "I guess you and me just aren't meant to have a right place, right time."

"What about last night?" Dean argued, jerking his thumb at the door. "Some Risa chick just about ripped my junk off saying that I spent the night with you last night."

Jo shrugged, and began worrying the ring against the chain again. "You and me have an understanding."

"An understanding?" Dean questioned suspiciously.

Nodding, Jo leant back against the wall. "Yeah – it's just sex, Dean." She bowed her head, an embarrassed blush colouring her pale cheeks. "Sometimes it's nice to forget for a couple of hours, and remember what it used to be like before the virus exploded across the country." She shrugged. "It wasn't always so doom and gloom with us. We had a lot of good times before life caught up with us."

"Wait," Dean held up his hands. "So let me get this straight. You and I were married, _are_ still married, but we aren't together because I am a heartless dick that sleeps around until I decide I'm in the mood to come home and play house with you?"

"I wouldn't put it that way," she argued quietly. "But more or less – yes." Upon noticing the anger flashing in his eyes, she placed her hands on her hips defensive. "It's not like a booty call thing. He just… you don't understand… it's hard for him. A lot has happened. I know-"

"Jesus Jo, what is wrong with you?" Dean interrupted with a growl.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop making excuses for him… me… whatever!" Dean shouted. "How can you let him treat you that way? The Jo *I* know would never put up with that shit."

Crossing her arms over her chest defensively, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well the Jo you know is living in a fantasy land, and she too will learn to take what she can get - because it's better than nothing."

"You're wrong!" he insisted, approaching her. "I wont let it get that bad."

She shook her head, tears prickly in her eyes. "You will, and I'll let you because I love you. I always have and I _always_ will." Before he could open his mouth to respond her lips were on his.

It wasn't exactly how he imagined their first kiss would be. Despite the way her body curved into him in all the right places, the kiss was comprised of sadness and regret. Even as her tongue grazed his own, and her fingers found the spots that made him want to hum, he knew it wasn't him she was really kissing. It was her Dean.

He broke away, and barely caught the look of relief on her face before it disappeared. A knock sounded at the door, rescuing Dean from the awkward conversation sure to follow. Chuck stuck his head around the door. "Whoops, sorry!! I didn't realise you two-"

"Chuck, you can come in," Jo called out, and stepped away from Dean. "I was hoping to run in to you. I have a belated birthday present."

Curious, the bearded man stepped forward; but not before serving Dean with a disapproving glare. "You didn't have – oh my God I love you!" The exhausted man exclaimed as Jo handed him a bag containing toilet rolls. "But where did you find it?"

Jo chuckled, obviously delighted by the man's enthusiasm. "I looted a condemned high school while on recon."

"This is the best birthday present ever," he gushed and hugged the items.

"Chuck, its toilet paper," Jo replied, though the satisfied look on her face said volumes. "Plus I owed you for distracting Risa for me last night."

The bearded man shrugged. "I would have done it anyway. You know you're my favourite."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, that's why you never wrote about me in your novels."

Embarrassed, Chuck lowered his head sheepishly. "You know how it is. The audience didn't respond well to love interest for the guys."

"Yeah, Yeah," Jo acknowledged with a shake of her head. "Dean you should probably go back to Cas before he has one of his afternoon naps." She turned to Chuck and Dean realised that her demeanour now radiated authority. "Would you be able to make sure Squad 3 is prepped for training at sundown? I don't need Squad 4 getting in my way again."

Chuck nodded eagerly. "Sure," he lifted a sheet on his clipboard. "But before you go, Darren wants to know if you want the red barrels of diesel moved to sector 3 and Colonel Marks wants you're answer on those flash bombs ASAP."

Jo's brow furrowed and she shook her head. "Dammit, I told Darren four times that red goes to Sect 5 and the blue goes to 3. I swear if I have to clean the engine of the scout truck one more friggin time…" she took a deep breath and gave Chuck a smile. "Forget it, I'll deliver the barrels myself. How long can you stall the Colonel for? I'm really not in the mood to haggle tonight."

"I'll take care of it. Don't worry." Chuck assured her. He held up the bag of toilet rolls. "Thanks again, Jo. You didn't have to. No one else remembered."

"Don't thank me - it was Dean's idea," Jo remarked jerking her thumb at Dean.

Chuck glanced at Dean, and gave him a surprised smile. "Thanks… er It's cool to know you actually listen to me."

"Um," Dean glanced at Jo and she nodded encouragingly. "No sweat." Beaming at Jo, Chuck nodded and shuffled out of the cabin. Dean turned to Jo, his expression amused. "When did you get so good at lying?"

"It's important to keep moral up," she explained and opened the door. "You should get going. Try to keep out of sight until future you returns, he's usually in a shit mood when he returns from a raid, so don't bother him until he's had a couple of drinks."

Without another word, she pushed him out of her cabin, and encouraged him to find his way back to Castiel's cabin. While avoiding members of the camp, Dean couldn't help but replay the conversation with Jo over and over in his mind. Finally, when he was sure he wasn't about to walk into a Cas centred orgy, he entered the cabin with more than enough questions burning on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

"Can you believe that crap? '_When you need to know something you will know it?'_ What the fuck is that about?"

Turning the corner, Jo looked up in time to see Willis and Andrews carrying a heavy bag between the two of them. The bag was significantly body shaped.

"Yager?" she questioned, glancing down at the black plastic. The two hunters nodded simultaneously, their eyes cast downward. Jo shook her head regretfully. "You guys alright?"

Willis snorted, a scowl corrupting his normally passive features. "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't we be? I mean we just lost another good man on what was supposed a simple recon mission." He adjusted his grip on the ends of the bag, his knuckles already white with strain. "Your husband is fine by the way – not a single scratch on his pretty little face."

"Patrick, don't," Andrews muttered, tossing Jo an apologetic look. "It has nothing to do with her. Leave her alone-"

"Why the fuck should I?" Wills demanded furiously, dropping his end of the bag and storming towards Jo. He raised his fist into the air. "I'm sick of the two of your and your little secrets. It's about high time someone else called the shots around-"

THWACK!

Wills hit the ground like a sack of potatoes after Jo struck him. Andrews gawked at her, but made no move to assist his friend. Jo took a menacing step towards Willis, and served him with a hostile gaze.

"Come at me like that again, and it'll be the last thing you do," she promised, glancing at Andrews to ensure that he understood the same warning applied to him. When she was sure Willis wasn't about to jump up and take a swipe at her, she offered a stiff hand towards Willis. "Show some respect for the dead and give that man a proper damn burial." The fuming hunter ignored her hand, and climbed to his feet slowly. He glared at the ground beneath him. "Both of you report to the med tent for a full physical when you're done."

"But-" Andrews started to protests feebly.

"Get moving!" Jo boomed. Rubbing the side of his face, Willis picked up the other end of the body bag and marched towards the tree line silently. Once she was sure they were gone, Jo continued up the path towards Castiel's cabin. She didn't think there was an honest chance in hell she'd be able to concentrate enough to practice meditation, but she was definitely grabbing some sleeping pills.

Nearing the bend towards the cluster of cabins, Jo was relieved to see the familiar beaded door until Risa crossed her path. The brunette glowered at her, but Jo ignored her. "There's a meeting with Dean tonight," Risa snapped as Jo strode past her with her head held high. "He didn't mention anything about you joining _us_."

Refusing to take the bait, Jo continued on as if she hadn't heard the jealous woman. A smile begged to be released from her lips when she heard the irate woman stamp the ground petulantly at Jo's lack of response.

Jo made a mental note to make sure Risa was rostered on bathroom duty for the next six weeks.

* * *

Dean looked up from the table when his future self barged through the door with a can of baked beans. "Here," He tossed the can haphazardly at him. "I brought you some dinner."

"Mmm," Dean remarked sarcastically, placing the dented can in front of him. "My favourite – cold beans."

"Well I'm sorry it's no four course banquet, your highness, but food is something of a luxury around here, so if you don't want it, there's someone else who will." Future Dean growled, dumping his duffle bag on the counter. The contents spilled out, providing Dean with a glimpse of familiar weapons.

"Yeah, Jo said as much," Dean remarked, reaching out to grasp the colt so he could inspect again.

The other Deans' head snapped up, eyes flashing dangerously. His hands were balled into fists. "What did you say?"

"Jo," Dean responded, realising too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. His future self was already pissed enough that he had taken a little vacation earlier. "She said that things like beer was a rare find now a days."

"Stay the hell away from her!" He growled, slamming a fist down on the table. "She is off limits at _all _times - do I make myself clear?"

Dean was taken aback by his future self's reaction. His top lip had actually curled up into a snarl, and Dean half expected him to start barking. He frowned and leant forward in his chair. "Dude, what's the big deal? The way I hear it, you've been too busy chasing tail to even notice-"

Future Dean turned away with a huff. "You don't know the first thing about-"

"Your wife?" Dean interrupted, finding it incredibly bizarre that he was actually frowning at himself. The other mans shoulders tensed, and Dean knew from experience that the muscles in his jaw had locked. "Jo and I had an interesting chat today."

"You had no right to talk to her!" He snapped, whirling around to serve him with an incensed glare. "If you were anybody else, I would snap you in half right now. She has been through enough without you nosing about and upsetting her."

"Oh, calm the fuck down," Dean retorted with a snort. "You're not fooling anyone with your tough guy impression."

"Say again?"

"You heard me, grumpy smurf." Dean leant back against his chair, and kicked his feet up on the desk with a defiant look. "Even if you did kill me right now, you'd still be the douche bag that cheats on his wife and has daily pity parties with himself."

"Keep going smart ass," the other man encouraged with a infuriated expression. "See how far you can push me before I dump your ass in the middle of croatville, butt naked, with a dinner bell wrapped around your neck."

"I'm game," Dean shrugged. "At least I wont have to look at your pathetic face anymore. I mean really, judging by the way Jo kissed me today, I'm not the only one who thinks you're pathetic."

The gun appeared from nowhere.

One second Dean was watching the vein throb violently in his future self's forehead, and the next second the cold tip of a gun was pressed against his temple. He heard the uneven breaths escaping the other man's mouth, and smiled victoriously. "What are you smiling about dick weed? I'm going to blow your brains out and you think it's funny?"

"Of course I do," Dean replied, reaching up and putting his hand on the end of gun. He pushed it away and surprisingly the gun did not return to his temple. "And you would… are… shit, this time crap is confusing."

"Then shut your trap."

"Why?" Dean challenged, watching his future self replace the gun in his bag. "It's because the truth hurts right?" Future Dean ignored him. "You dropped the ball big time." After a few tense seconds, the other Dean stopped moving. Waiting impatiently for the other man to respond he shook his head. "Not that I'm surprised really – it's not like we didn't avoid having long term relationships with anyone for a reason."

Future Dean nodded in agreement, and pulled out the chair opposite him. He sunk down on the chair with an exhausted sigh. Dean removed his feet from the table, and stared at the worn man sitting in front of him. "You're right," his future self finally admitted after a long stretch of silent. "I really screwed up."

"Duh."

His future self sent him a warning glare. "I meant what I said. Stay away from Jo - she's got enough to deal with."

"I can't believe we… you are married," Dean remarked, twisting the ring on his finger.

"Yeah, crazy huh?"

Dean snorted. "I think the crazy part is the fact that she said yes," he quipped, a grin stretching his features. "What did you do – ply her tequila?"

His future self shook her head. "Close. It was an accident really, and really not what she deserved." He began to pick at a loose splinter on the desk. "We were driving, I don't know where, but it must have been summer because she was wearing a hot little tank top and singing along to the radio," he paused, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "For the record she can't sing for crap, but she knew every single word to 'You Shook Me' by Willie Dixson so I let it go."

"She does?" Dean asked surprised. "I thought for sure with an unnatural love for REO that she had no taste in music."

The other man nodded in agreement. "Her taste in music isn't the only thing that will surprise you."

"Oh yeah?" Dean perked up, instantly curious. "What else?"

For the first time since he'd met his future self the darkness in his eyes seemed to momentarily fade and a fond smile crossed his face. "You'll find out." Then without warning, the happiness dissolved and his green eyes flashed. "Or maybe you wont. Whatever you do, don't let her and Ellen go to Maine."

"Is that where Ellen caught the virus?"

"I made a lot of mistakes with Jo, and I don't blame you if you want to run as far from her as you can when you get back – but do this one thing for me…us... Keep Jo safe," he insisted with an intense look in his eyes. "Do you understand? No one should ever have to kill their own family."

"You mean like with Ben?" Dean said quietly. When he saw the flicker of agony dart across his face he rushed to apologize. "Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean – forget I said anything. I just wanted… I get it."

"No, you don't," The man answered through gritted teeth. "And I hope to God you never do."

Desperate to lighten the mood again, Dean tried to steer the conversation back to happier memories. "So you proposed to Jo?"

His future self remained quiet for a few minutes, but eventually he nodded. "Yeah. We were miles from the nearest motel so we found this spot by a river. I stupidly left the windows down and we were nearly eaten alive by giant mosquitos. It's gonna sound really dumb, but I woke up and there she was putting the last of the antiseptic cream on my bites, and she just gives me this smile and tells me a dirty joke she remembered about a werewolf and a Rottweiler… and it all clicked. I asked her to marry me, and we spent the rest of the morning eating MNM'S for breakfast and having the best sex I've ever had."

"Dude," Dean breathed, his eyebrows having disappeared into his hairline. "You're shitting me."

"'fraid not."

"Huh."

"What?" Future Dean asked, looking annoyed.

"I just-" Dean shrugged, "Dude, you make us sound so gay. _'It all just clicked'_?"

His future self pushed away from the table angrily. "Shut up, you were the one who wanted to know what happened. What did you expect me to say? That I stopped off for cheeseburgers and a marriage license?"

"No," Dean protested. "I just thought it'd be something cool."

"Well, after your little time warp, you can go back and plan something cool."

"I- but, sure I'm attracted to her, but I'm not… we're not…"

Future Dean smirked. "Yeah right, like you didn't spend the night jerking off in the shower after you saw her in Colorado."

"I was bored… and I hadn't seen her since Duluth and-"

"It's me you're talking to remember?"

"So you're gonna kill the Devil tonight?"

"Smooth, dude. Smooth."

* * *

"What are you doing _now_?" Castiel questioned, looking irritated.

Dean held his hand to silence the Angel. He'd been back in his own time line for less than an hour but his head was still desperately trying to catch up to the fact that he'd really only been gone for an hour. "Just one more minute Cas, I've just gotta make one more call."

It was not the answer the Angel wanted to hear. He huffed impatiently. "You just spent twelve minutes and twenty eight seconds talking to Sam," Castiel pointed out sourly.

Dean rolled his eyes, and moved away from the trench coat clad man. He smiled to himself – he'd prefer a bossy, vague Angel over a stoned, useless Castiel any day of the week. Finally he found the name he was searching for on his speed dial and hit send. He brought the phone to his ear, a nervous breath trapped in his throat. He hadn't intended on calling her, but after he'd spoken to Sam he'd already made his decision.

"This is Jo, you know what to do."

"Jo! Umm, hey… it's Dean… Winchester. I was hoping to catch you - but whatever… you're probably busy. There's no rush to call me back, just checking in and making sure you're ok. I guess I'll talk to you later."

* * *

Would love to hear your thoughts! Also... if there was one song I could dedicate to future!dean in this fic it would be _'The Mile'_ by Amber Lawrence... friggin song makes you wanna cry!


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